My Skin
by NebulaGrayson
Summary: He lost his mother.  He lost his home.  He would not allow his T'hy'la to be swept away into the neverending abyss of oblivion.  Kirk/Spock.  Warning: Slash, torture, rape, foul language


My Skin

**Chapter One**

The room was silent, aside from the small quivering breaths emitting from Chekov, who was sitting behind the beaming station; his twitching fingers still hovering over the controls and the expressions of devastation and guilt plastered onto the sweet, teenaged features of his face. First Officer James T. Kirk and CMO Leonard "Bones" McCoy stood behind the young ensign staring at their Acting Captain, Spock, who was standing on the transporting pad, surrounded by four other Vulcans, a look of pain, misery and utter shock dancing across his features, and a hand extended toward the empty space where his mother _should _have appeared along side of him.

The silence stretched on. The tension filled the room and seemed to crush the oxygen against each inhabitant's lungs making everyone uneasy. A few moments passed before Chekov's tears brimmed and spilt over, cascading down his flushed cheeks. His woeful sob sliced through the silence like a freshly sharpened razor.

"I'm sawrry!" He cried. "I'm so sawrry! Prastee meenya pozhalosta! (1)" His apologies were now a jumbled slur of Russian as the guilt of the death of a friend's mother hung over his head heavily. He ducked down and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expressions on everyone else's face.

Spock quickly schooled his features back to their usual strictness and his arm snapped back to his side tightly. He sharply turned and pulled his tunic back into place before inclining his head stoically toward the sobbing teen.

"It is illogical for you to apologize, ensign." His words were clipped and mechanical; Jim vaguely thought that the Vulcan sounded like a robot. "The incident was… inevitable. You had no way of predicting that the ground would collapse. There is nothing to forgive."

Chekov looked up to protest but before he could Spock turned away from him to respectfully nod a farewell to his elders before stiffly striding toward the door impatiently, almost looking irritated.

Jim reached out a hand toward Spock as he strode toward the door, he didn't really know why, maybe because he could almost feel the emotions that seemed to radiate off of the Vulcan, but he reached out all the same. Spock didn't cease to walk but briefly glanced at the out stretched hand then to Jim's eyes, and for a split second he allowed what he was feeling to pass through his eyes to his first officer's. Jim almost gasped at the raw mournfulness that threatened to decompose Spock's already wavering emotional barrier.

"Spo-" Jim tried to call out for him but before he could finish his name Spock was already walking out of the room with the door swishing closed behind him.

Jim looked back to the others in the room. He looked to his best friend, Bones, who was now leaning over Chekov with his hands on the young ensigns shoulders, murmuring low, comforting words, trying to get the kid to stop crying. Then he looked to the Vulcan elders who looked slightly shocked in their own Vulcan way, before smiling half-heartedly to them and hurrying to go after Spock.

Once he was out the door and down the hall, Jim was surprised to see that Spock was nowhere in sight, which told him that his Captain was probably in a hurry to get to his quarters before the hurt broke through and he lost his Vulcan cool.

He started his way toward Spock's quarters, taking the biggest steps and shortest routes possible through the ship, dodging yeoman and cadets, and _for what?_ Jim thought fleetingly. Why w_as _he going after Spock? _Was _he _really_ going to try and comfort _Spock_ just to get cleverly insulted then kicked out? This was stupid, now that he thought about it, but still, something was urging him to Spock's door so he could help, somehow.

He sped up so that he was almost running now. He was getting some funny looks from some crewmembers but he didn't care because, all of a sudden, he remembered Uhura. He knew that she was probably weaseling her way toward Spock's quarters too, but he was determined to get there first.

Jim turned some corners and jumped some obstacles and he was _finally _at his destination. He hurried towards the door to Spock's quarters and reached out toward the pad next to it, but stopped before he could press down. Why was he so nervous? There were butterflies in his stomach just from standing outside the door. Butterflies! Really? What the hell was wrong with him? He actually had the jitters to talk to Spock! _Spock!_

He shook his head, thinking how absurd he was being and reached out to the pad for a second, but stopped himself again. What if Uhura was in there _right now_? He cringed at the thought. He could almost see her in there being all feminine and all kissy-kissy and hanging off of Spock like cheap, clingy drapes that he got for his grandma at a dirty flea market that's run by people who can hardly speak English so they have to use their seven-year-old son to translate, and the only reason he got them was because he found out it was his grandma's birthday the night before and he knew his grandma wouldn't notice how cheap and dingy her gift was because she has cataracts and hallucinating because of her Alzheimer's!

_Whoa there Jimmy-boy, _he said to himself and shaking his head, laughing slightly. _Calm yourself._

He really didn't like Uhura. The only reason he 'flirted' with her was because he knew it annoyed her. What he really wanted to do was rip off her extensions, have someone and/or an animal shit on it then fling it at her. She's such a bitch to him! How she initiated the bar fight (which broke his nose, by the way!) and then how she constantly dissed him in front of the crew. She made him want to fling things at her! Firm, uncomfortable, sand paper-y things!

"Aw, fuck it!" He whispered to himself and hit the pad with his right index finger. He didn't care if Uhura was in there! Hell, he _hoped _he would interrupt their sexy times! He wanted to talk to Spock _now_! The thing was… Spock didn't answer.

With a huff he pressed down again. He was on the verge of tapping his foot impatiently. He actually timed his patience and after two minutes he groaned in frustration and typed the override code in impatiently.

The doors opened almost silently which added to the eerie pressure emanating from the dark room. He stepped in timidly and reached out a hand so he wouldn't run into anything. The tips of his fingers found the wall and they gently dragged against the smooth surface as he took small baby steps, inching his way in slowly.

His heart was racing and his breath coming out in small gust because the dead silence was simply… disconcerting. Not to mention it was hot. Like a moist desert… but then it wouldn't be a desert anymore… well it was really hot. He could feel small beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck and sliding down his shoulder blades.

He was very uncomfortable with the heat, the silence, and the total darkness. He was about to forget the whole thing and he started to turn to abort mission when the lights flashed on blindingly and he ran right smack, head-on into something warm and hard.

Jim's eyes were sensitive and slow to adapt to the light that seemed to be at 100% so he reached up to put his hands in front of his clavicle where he had collided with whatever-it-was that he ran into. The thing was _radiating _heat now that he could actually feel it and it was smooth too. He ran his hands lower and found that it felt like it had a gentle slope that lead to an even smoother plain than before. He knew at this point he could probably open his eyes and _see _what it was but the warmth was _mesmerizing _so he kept his eyes clamped shut. He kept his hands where they were and just leaned against it. He was totally hypnotized until the thing _moved. _It was _breathing._

His eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was the blue material of his Captain's shirt. Jim pushed himself off of Spock with a gasp and shook his head rapidly.

He couldn't tell what was going through Spock's head but something along the linesof HOLY_ FUCK! I just molested Captain Spock! _Was running through his cranium.

Spock just stood there and stared at him as he just sputtered. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

Spock didn't even acknowledge his apologies. "Officer Kirk, may I inquire as to why you are in my quarters?"

Jim's mouth snapped and he straightened to look up at Spock's big piercing, black eyes. "I came to see if you are alright."

"I assure you, I'm quite alright. Vulcans do not mourn." He turned away from Kirk. "Now if that is all I will resume my meditation."

It hurt Jim to see Spock fight against his urge to mourn over his mother's death, he could tell Spock was lying to him so he reached and placed his hand on Spock's shoulder. "I'm so sorry Spock…" Spock needed this just as much as he did.

Spock didn't show any emotion or acknowledge Jim's words, but he allowed his eyes to slip shut out of the human's line of vision and reveled in the comfort that he sensed through the warmth of the humans hand. He suppressed the tears that were threatening to break loose, he dodged the sob that had been climbing up his throat and he ignored the unceasing churning in his abdomen.

Jim continued without feedback. "I know you must be hurting, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for your loss… I can relate to what you're going through so… if you need to talk… I'm here for you."

Spock still didn't react; it was like trying to comfort a brick wall.

"It's alright to hurt, Spock."

Spock inhaled sharply and shook Jim's hand off of his shoulder. "I request you leave."

"But…"

"Now." Jim sighed but didn't argue. It was best not to bother Spock right now if he didn't want it. He stared at Spock's still frame for a moment before striding out the door.

The cool air was a relief for sure and he mopped the small sheen of sweat from his forehead. When he brought his arm down he saw none other than Uhura walking towards him, probably to go to Spock's quarters.

"_Bitch…_" He whispered as she passed him, he knew it pissed her off when an offended gasp passed her lips.

He smiled smugly; at least he accomplished _something _in this trip.

"C'mon kid… It ain't your fault. It was all an accident. If the green-blooded-hobgoblin isn't mad at you, you shouldn't be mad at yourself." McCoy was crouched in front of Chekov's chair in the transporting room with a hand on the ensign's shoulder, trying to console him, because this was kind of pitiful to look at.

"I'm sawrry." Chekov sniffled while trying to wipe the tears that were flowing relentlessly down his face. "She vas juzt so _cloze_. I could've done _somezing_ to save hur!"

"Listen," the doctor said gruffly, "you ain't psychic so you couldn't have done anything to help her. Don't beat yourself up about it!" He couldn't believe he got himself into this. He had to say something to make this kid feel better. "You're one of the smartest people on this ship, so if you couldn't have beamed her nobody could've."

Chekov looked up at him, eyes glistening and face flushed and launched himself at Bones, locking his arms securely around the good doctor's midsection.

"Zank you, doctor! Zank you!" He buried his face in the older man's chest and inhaled deeply… He like McCoy, he really did.

Bones stiffened for a moment before sighing and bringing a hand down to pat Chekov's back and another to run comfortingly through the Ensigns hair.

_Might as well let him get it out of his system._


End file.
